This is my first Sherlock fanfic! I love teenlock, and this is an idea that's been floating around my brain for a while. Reviews are much appreciated! Enjoy

Disclaimer: I do not own any of these characters.


Feel free to come over anytime. I'm just finishing up my packing. – JW

You're still coming yeah? – JW

Sherlock? Why aren't you answering mate? – JW

Sherlock sighed and put his phone down. He was lying on his bed, his arms folded across his chest, and his eyes were fixed on the ceiling. He didn't want to see John. He didn't want to because he knew it would be the last time he would see him for at least four years. Sherlock hated feeling this way. He had never felt this sort of attachment to someone before. He used to regard all relationships as silly and unnecessary. Why get attached to someone when there's always something new to learn? That's what he always figured. But then he met John, and everything changed.

John was the first person who could not only stand being around Sherlock, but who also genuinely liked him. John respected Sherlock's talent and admired him for it. John stood up to Sherlock's bullies and supported him even when he was annoyed. John taught Sherlock a lot about taming his talent, and being sensitive to others. John cared about Sherlock. And in time, Sherlock found he cared about John. John was Sherlock's first friend.

And now John was leaving.

Sherlock didn't want to go to John's, but he knew he would regret it if he didn't. Sighing again, Sherlock swung his legs over the side of the bed and stood up, grabbing his phone in the process.

On my way. – SH


John was nervous. It was his last night in London before flying off to Afghanistan. It was his last night in his country, his last night with his family, and, most importantly, his last night with Sherlock. He had no idea how the younger boy felt about him leaving. He never knew how Sherlock felt about anything, the mysterious git.

John got up and began to pace around his room, running his hands through his short blond hair as he wondered how the night would go. He wondered if he would reveal his feelings for his best friend. If Sherlock didn't feel the same, then it would be fine; John was leaving anyway. But if Sherlock did reciprocate his feelings, then how could John leave?

John had never meant to fall for the genius boy. In fact, John was quite secure in his sexuality before Sherlock came along. He was certain that he liked girls. But then there he was with his curly dark hair, his ocean blue eyes, and devilishly sexy half-smirk. And that brain. That damn impressive brain that always had John wondering what went on inside of it. John couldn't help but fall for him. He had kept his feelings secret over the years, because he knew how his best friend felt about relationships and sentiment. But now he felt he had to confess his love, because it may be his last chance.

John sighed and glanced out the window to see Sherlock heading up the drive. He just sat down on his bed, knowing that Sherlock would let himself in. He ran his hands along his pants nervously, trying to stop them from shaking.


Sherlock arrived at the front door and pushed it open, letting himself into the empty house. John's parents had gone out on their last night with their son—typical—and Harry was nowhere to be seen. Sherlock climbed the stairs and paused outside his best friend's room. He took a deep breath and assumed his usual stature; calm, cool, and collected. He entered the room and John automatically stood up. He was obviously nervous.

"Hello Sherlock." John said, rubbing the back of his neck. That was something John always did when he was stressed, Sherlock had noticed.

"Hello, John." Sherlock greeted as he made his way over to John's bed. He sat down cross-legged and John sat down beside him. Sherlock looked around the room that was soon to lose its inhabitant. It was mostly bare now, and there was a tightly packed suitcase set down near the door. It was still an odd thing for Sherlock to think about, that John was leaving the next day.

"Are you ready?" Sherlock asked, his voice betraying his calm exterior. He cleared his throat and tried again. "Ready to leave?"

"Uh, yeah. I guess so." John responded, looking out the window. "I'm going to miss home though."

"Well, of course. That's natural." Sherlock said. Then he fell silent. It was an odd thing for him, to be quiet. He just didn't know where to begin. There was so much he wanted to say, and he didn't know how to word any of it.


John hated this silence. It wasn't normally like this between them. And even when there was silence it was comfortable; Sherlock lost in his mind palace and John admiring him. This silence was deadly. Everything that needed to be said hung in the air between them, neither of them willing to bring attention to it.

John opened his mouth to speak, then closed it, then opened it again, and then closed it. As hard as he tried, the words would just not come out.

After a few uncomfortable minutes that felt like hours, Sherlock finally spoke up.

"How about we go for a walk? You can get your last taste of some fresh London air."

"Yeah. Yeah that sounds good." John nodded and the pair stood up.


Outside, the sun shone brightly and warmly. It contrasted with the gloomy atmosphere that loomed between Sherlock and John. The two walked silently side by side, both of them lost in thought. They made their way through busy streets without saying a word, until they finally came to a fairly unoccupied park. Sherlock made his way over to a bench and sat down. John sat beside him and leaned forward, resting his elbows on his knees and his chin on his hands. They were silent for a few more minutes until Sherlock finally spoke up.

"I know you want to tell me something John." He said it nonchalantly, simply as an observation, but inside his stomach was churning.

John sighed; he wasn't the least bit surprised Sherlock had noticed. "There's a lot to talk about." He said. Sherlock simply nodded in reply.

"I don't really know where to begin…" John took a deep breath and was silent a few minutes more before continuing. "I'm leaving tomorrow. And I'm ready. I'm ready to go to Afghanistan, to do my best for my country. And I'm ready to leave my family. But... I'm not ready to leave you, Sherlock." John paused and looked down at his hands. He didn't dare look at Sherlock, but he could feel the younger boy's eyes on him. John swallowed hard and continued. "I didn't think it would be this hard… to say goodbye to you. But it is. Because there's something I've been keeping from you, and I need to tell you now." John inhaled deeply, trying to keep his breath steady. He had to keep it together; he couldn't cry. That would just make it harder. "Sherlock I've known you for two years now. And they have been the best two years of my life. You drove me mad, with your constant observations and apparent lack of social skills. But you also taught me a lot. About seeing everything to its full potential, about keeping your eyes and mind open and… love. You've taught me what it's like to truly love someone, Sherlock. True love is accepting someone for who they are, learning to understand how they work, and never asking them to change. And well… I love you. I love you Sherlock Holmes and despite how much of a nutter you are I wouldn't have you change in the slightest. And I hate that I've waited to tell you this because now it's too late… I'm leaving."

John continued to stare at his hands, and he felt the heat rise in his cheeks. There was a long silence and John could hardly bear it. He was desperate to know how Sherlock was reacting, but he didn't dare look. Then finally, the young genius spoke.

"John…" He said. His voice was low and soft. "It's not too late."

John looked up and saw those ocean blue eyes staring at him. But it wasn't the usual cold and calculating stare, it was a loving one.

"John, I love you too. And I know that you're leaving but that doesn't matter because you will come back. I am certain of it. And I know my feelings won't waver. Because John you are my first and only friend, and you've taught me about sentiment and minding others feelings and about how to love. And I will never forget how much you mean to me."

The two stared at each other. John's mouth hung open slightly. He felt a wave of relief rush over him and then a giddy smile spread across his face. Sherlock returned the smile and then without hesitation pulled John to him, pressing their lips together.

The kiss was short and sweet, and perfect. Suddenly all the tension and worry John had been feeling all afternoon left, and was replaced with giddy relief. Now it didn't matter that he was going. It didn't matter that he would be gone for four years. Because he loved Sherlock and Sherlock loved him, and nothing could ever change that.

John pulled away from Sherlock, still smiling, and whispered softly, "Lets continue this back at my place, shall we?"


The next morning John's family drove them to the airport. John said a quick goodbye to his family, with awkward hugs and faux sadness. Then he pulled Sherlock off to the side and that's when the real sadness hit. He knew it would all be fine, and that he would see his best friend again, but damn, he was going to miss the git. Tears filled John's eyes, and he didn't even bother to blink them away.

Sherlock raised his hand to John's face and gently pushed the tears away. Then he pulled him in for a passionate kiss. Everything around them disappeared and all they felt was each other and the strong bond they held. John took in everything; he felt Sherlock's brown curly locks, he firmly pressed his own lips against Sherlock's heart-shaped ones, he smelled Sherlock's sweet scent and felt his lanky frame press against him. When he finally pulled back, he leaned his forehead against the taller boy's, and looked into his wonderful blue eyes.

Sherlock pulled John into a tight hug, and whispered into his ear, "I love you, John Watson. Go be a hero."

Fin.